InnocenceForSale.com/ Bree, page 67
My breasts quivered under me every time our bodies met, and I could still feel the fiery outline of his hand on my ass cheek as clearly as the moment it happened. The orgasm that had been so close before, returned to the edge of the cliff with a vengeance and I squeezed Ryan’s cock with my pussy as he fucked me at a furious pace.
I couldn’t have held this flood back if I was an orgasm dam. The pleasure blew me away and all I could hear was ringing in my ears as humming ecstasy cramped every muscle in my body and I quivered with the intensity.
Ryan’s cock swelled and twitched and I felt a spurt of creamy cum unleashed inside of me as his own orgasm intruded on his fucking rhythm. It was hard to imagine sex without this wonderful, sticky, perfect, messy end. The hot flood that reminded me that my man was feeling just as euphoric as I was, was my favorite part. It was beautiful in its own way.
The two of us collapsed on to the bed, spooning, with Ryan still inside of me as we caught our breath. He propped himself up on his elbow and brushed my hair and errant drips of sweat away from my forehead as I felt my body threatening me with a nap.
Then I remembered something.
“Um… if you were going to covertly poison somebody with estrogen, how would you do it?” I asked.
“Funny you should mention…”
Ryan
We were overdressed for this detour, but Jace had invited us for some kind of impromptu meeting just as we were finishing our dinner to celebrate the engagement. He didn’t say what it was about, but he said I was going to like it.
The elevator opened up into a short hallway. Two security guards stood to attention about halfway to the door at the other end and they nodded respectfully at us as we passed.
“Evening Sir, Ma’am,” said one, and I returned the nod.
It felt good to see Sarina treated with that much esteem, I smiled once we were past. My badass fiancé and soon-to-be mother of my child.
Jace had proven true to his word. I didn’t fuck him around and he seemed to have placed me somewhere near the top of his hierarchy, in recognition of my expertise. In this city at least, and in his ever-growing area of influence, that made us royalty. Life was good.
We were almost close enough to knock on the door when the man himself opened it. He had a glass of Champagne in one hand, but before he could even say a word, Kendall yelled from inside.
“No way! You’re engaged?”
Jace stepped out of the way of the miniature stampede and Sarina held out her hand for Kendall and Skylar to examine. Jace held up his glass over the three of them.
“Congrats!” said Jace.
“Thanks! What’s going on?”
“Come in, come in. We’ll talk inside.”
Kendall and Skylar took turns hugging me as we all made our way inside the Barlows’ penthouse. Austin was just watching the end of the sports news on the television before he added his congratulations to the mix and feigned a left hook at me as if in long-delayed retaliation for the night we first met.
As ever, I was glad that lunchbox sized hand was patting me on the back rather than knocking me out. He was a hell of a presence to have on your side.
Jace was at the bar, filling glasses with Champagne. Kendall handed them out, giving one with only the tiniest splash of liquid at the bottom of the glass for Sarina and, I noticed, keeping a similarly small one for herself.
“Alright, what’s this all about?” I asked.
“Two things,” said Jace. “First, we’ve finally finished accounting for everything we recovered from the Acardis. Four and a half billion in cash alone. There’s a hell of a Christmas bonus coming for everybody. Second… San Matilde has fallen. The Folliero Family is officially fucked. I thought I’d only get Highston before the old Mafia realized what they were up against and started working together more closely, but you confused them enough that I got San Matilde too. The heads of the remaining families, what heads they’ve got left, will be having some pretty urgent meetings tonight about what they can do to stop the tide coming in. Good fuckin’ luck. They’ve already lost, they just won’t believe it until I’m pissing on their graves.”
Jace raised his glass.
“Fuck ‘em.”
I pressed my lips together and weighed up the merits of his toast before raising my own glass. “Fuck ‘em.”
The others joined in and the sound of the TV was temporarily drowned out by everybody clinking glasses and saying “Fuck ‘em.”
Eventually the moment passed and Jace looked more bemused than anything else about the way Kendall and Skylar dragged Sarina off to the side because talk about weddings and babies trumped matters of national domination. I sat on a bar stool and Austin joined Jace behind the bar, pulling some juice out of the fridge and pouring himself a glass.
“For a cop, she’ll make a pretty good drug lord’s wife,” said Austin. “Sky’s trying to convince her to go into business too, you hear about that?”
“Nah, Sarina hasn’t mentioned it yet. What kind of business?”
“A women-exclusive gym, a chain of them if the first one works. Once Skylar’s finished her degree and everything.”
“Cool. I get the impression that Sarina wouldn’t want to define herself as “just” a drug lords wife anyway. She’s got too much going on for that. They all have.” I glanced over at the three of them, then to Jace. “Hey, I don’t mean to kill the buzz, but I’ve got some bad news.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re not going to hit quota this month.”
Jace gave me a blank stare, then raised his eyebrow. “Why?”
“The main reaction vessel shit the bed. Turned out a giant batch of unsellable crap.”
“Fuck, when did that happen?”
“Couple days ago. I could have fixed it, but it would have been a stop-gap. It would only have been a matter of time before it fucked another batch and with now much this shit costs… well, it wouldn’t make sense. Must have got damaged in the transport from Highston.”
Jace mulled it over, I could almost see numbers flickering behind his eyes. It was a welcome change from the bravado of the Acardis.
“So what do you need?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’ve taken care of it. The manufacturer had a new model available. Same dimensions, same connections, it’ll fit right into the existing setup but it’s about twenty-three percent more efficient. I’ve already ordered it. Unfortunately, most of the lab is going to be down for the next week, plus another day or two of calibrations. I’ve got my assistants working on what they can around it, and we’ll be able to catch up once we’re up and running again.”
“How much did the new reaction vessel cost?”
“Twenty-seven million.”
Austin choked on his juice, and Jace’s eyes watered a little. “For that price, I hope it has a fuckin’ alarm clock built in.”
“Fuck that,” said Austin. “For that price, it better give you a reach-around while it’s working.”
“You OK with it?” I asked.
“Was it the right call?” Jace countered.
“Yes, it was.”
“Then I’m OK with it.”
I felt Sarina’s arms slip around me and her head rest on my shoulder. I turned to give her a kiss.
“Everything coming together, huh?” she asked.
Jace gestured Austin in her direction. “Search her for a wire.”
We all laughed before Jace continued. “Yeah. The country is ours. I can feel it.”
“While we’re here, I came up with something else you might be able to run with,” I said.
“Whatís that?” Jace asked.
“A more efficient way to produce sugar pills.”
Jace looked at Austin with a what-the-fuck expression, then back to me. “Sugar pills?”
“I thought you”d be skeptical, but listen, the sugar pill market is worth billions worldwide. This is a patentable process, which means you can corner that market pretty much overnight, once the facility is set up. Sugar pills are used in clinical trials for controls, sweeteners, and the big one, homeopathy.”
“Billions, you say…” pondered Jace.
Austin put his arm over Jace’s shoulder dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen… the homeopathic kingpin!”
We all laughed again, but before I could give any more details, Jace fell silent and all the color dropped from his face. He looked sick to his stomach.
The glass dropped from his hand and smashed on the floor, silencing everybody in the room bar the man’s voice coming from the TV. Austin looked at his brother in confusion for a second before turning to me with murder written in his expression.
“What the fuck did you do?”
I held my hands up. “Nothing! Nothing!”
Jace fumbled at Austin”s hands as the heavyweight reached for me, knocking them down. He shook his head in a daze and walked around the bar, heading for the TV, where he sank to his knees.
Everybody gathered around. Kendall looked like her world was falling apart, terrified of the deathly shade of Jace’s skin. She tentatively put her hands on his shoulder and knelt with him, trying to get some kind of explanation out of him. He shook his head and shushed her.
On screen, some older guy was standing behind a podium addressing a room of reporters.
“… and so, in light of this new reality, I have decided to announce my intentions. There will be many hurdles to overcome, but make no mistake, I will be your next President. This country needs and deserves a leader who has the courage to stand up against the tide of organized crime destroying it from the inside. When I became Governor of New Mexico, I spearheaded operations that stamped out criminal organizations that had had a stranglehold on the state for generations and, to this day, policies that I enacted ensures it retains the lowest rates of such crime in the country. As your duly elected commander in chief, I can ensure that this great country doesn’t have to endure another Highston Disaster, no more open warfare on our streets…”
The screen cut back to the news studio where the announcer revealed that this was the scene earlier today when Victor Mondalo called a press conference.
“Jace, what’s wrong?” Kendall plead.
He pointed. “That… that’s the guy… that’s the fucking guy…”
“What guy?” asked Skylar.
When I was a kid… my parents… he… he came to the group home. He told me the Picollis were the ones who did it.”
“You sure?” Kendall asked.
“I’m fuckin’ sure,” Jace said . “That voice… I’ll remember it until my dying day.”
“What the fuck is going on?” asked Austin.
The confidence of the room had evaporated in an instant. The clear path Jace saw in front of us was demolished just as fast. What the fuck was going on, indeed?
* * *
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Stockholm Syndromance: A Bad Boy Romance
Still a Bad Boy #4
This book is for my dad, who passed away when I was almost finished writing it.
It’s so cruel that I lost my shoulder to cry on when you went away, because I could really use it right now.
Remember when you were on my side even when the rest of the world was against me? I do.
Remember when you were my friendly giant? I do.
You fought so hard for your farm. I’m so proud of you! I spread your ashes there.
I’ll try to make you proud because, as far as dads go, you were definitely more Winchester than Mondalo.
I love you so *so* much…
Goodbye, my most biased supporter.
Eliana
Ever since announcing his intentions to run for President, my father had been away from the house even more than usual. It had been weeks since I’d been required to stand quietly behind him so the nation could see what a great family man the former contract killer was.
Where was my mother? In public, the answer was, “That’s a very private tragedy I’d rather not drag through the public arena, next question please.” In private, the only answer I ever received was “Shut the fuck up.”
My life was not my own; it belonged to him, Vito Mondalo. The voting public knew him as Victor. It made him more “accessible,” according to his advisors.
He had plans for me, plans that were set in stone, plans that laughed at all the time I wasted learning about biology and medicine. I had this idea that maybe one day I could be a nurse, or even a doctor.
On the increasingly rare occasions I saw him, he made a point of reminding me that my ideas were actually delusions. When Costanzo Capon’s youngest son, Roberto, turned eighteen, I’d belong to him.
This was my father’s way of paying for the Capon Crime Family’s alliance and support in his presidential bid, because the long history of mutually-beneficial arrangements between him and the Capons wasn’t enough, apparently.
I met Roberto recently, and I could barely contain my horror at being shown off like a sneak preview of his eighteenth birthday present. He looked at me the way he might look at a mountain of donuts, if he was the kind of guy who also wanted to fuck donuts.
Never mind that the thought of Roberto, of being his wife, made my skin crawl. Never mind that he was so overweight that he might have a heart attack on our wedding night. That was the deal, that was what my father said, that’s what was going to happen.
I did what I could to lose my virginity, to give away the gift that had been promised to Roberto, but the only men in my life were employed by my father. Not the mild-mannered public servant the general public knew, but the brutal hitman who had worked his way up the Mafia hierarchy until, in this city, he was second only to Don Folliero himself, and the man entrusted to go for the top job in the country on behalf of the mob.
There must be something wrong with me, though. Something beyond the obvious fear of my father that all the Mafia soldiers working security here clearly felt. In the movies, there was no fear, no army, big enough to get between a man and the woman he loved and lusted after, so the problem must be me. Invisible at best and repulsive at worst. Unlovable. Not worth the trouble.
I tightened the belt around my bathrobe and pulled it apart a little at the chest before exiting the bathroom and heading down the hallway towards my room, hoping that tonight would be the night somebody would look at me, see me… maybe want me. Anything but one more night of exactly the same emptiness, one more night closer to an awful arranged marriage and the final nail in the coffin of my dreams, professional or otherwise.
Coming the other way, doing a standard security-sweep of the house, was one such employee of my father’s. I’d seen him around before. Billy was his name, I thought. He was built a little light for my liking, but he had that classic gangster kind of edge to him and looked good in a suit.
I stepped into his path. “Hey… Billy, right?”
He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes trained determinedly about six inches over my head. “Yes, ma’am… uh… good evening.”
“How’s it going?”
“Going fine, ma’am. All clear.”
“My name’s Eliana, you don’t have to call me “ma’am.””
“Uh…” Billy gulped.
“Hey, my eyes are down here.” I waved my hand maybe a little lower than where my eyes actually were.
Billy glanced down, and then back up again before I continued.
“You got a break coming up?” I asked. “Wanna watch a movie with me? There’s a TV in my room.”
Billy gulped again and I glanced up at his forehead to see beads of sweat clearly starting to stand out. I knew then that there was no hope with this one.
“Ugh. Never mind.”
Billy looked like the governor had called with his pardon just before the switch was thrown on his electric chair. He was just another hired goon, terrified of my dad and terrified of offending me in case I told my dad. He’d never do the kind of things to me that I wanted, needed, to have done.
Even if he changed his mind, now it was too late. Could I take a man as scared as him seriously? Could he ever live up to my fantasies? No. Tonight it was just going to be me, my laptop, my favorite website, and the fingers of my right hand.
Locking my bedroom door behind me, I hung up my bathrobe on the hook and climbed into bed, pulling my laptop from my bedside table. The internet was my only sexual outlet, and sometimes it scared even me when I sat back and really thought about the kinds of things I’d discovered that turned me on.
I wondered if it was a natural result of this captive upbringing. I had everything here I needed to exist, but nothing I needed to live. I’d been home-schooled all my twenty years, and ever since that incident with the piano teacher when I was eighteen, my tutors had been exclusively old women.
Every time I’d had a lesson with him, I felt kind of funny. I found myself thinking about him when he wasn’t around, wondering what he looked like under his clothes.
When I discovered the sensations I could cause between my legs by rhythmically squeezing my thighs together in just the right way, the lessons became even more interesting. My final piano lesson was cut short when one of my father’s men walked in to find the tutor’s hands on my breasts and my face flushed in near-orgasm from my thigh-squeezing.
I never had a piano lesson since then. If the rumors were true, then my tutor never conducted a piano lesson, or anything else, ever again either. It went some way towards explaining why no man around here would ever lay a finger on me.
Shortly after that, my father announced my engagement to Roberto, but if he thought my sexuality was suddenly under control, he was sadly mistaken. Exactly the opposite, actually.
